Mareno - when the captain's clock strikes Three, oh.
And there's no where left to drink, oh...
but a deep and dark marine casino...
that's a feeling called mareno.

There's a seedy side of sailing, take your seven sins across the seven seas.
That cruise ship siren's wailing, "The devil's satisfaction's guaranteed".
In the devil's house, the first chip's always free.

They're closing down the pool bar - there's a pitch black gale a howlin' from the east.
Your conscience is a dying north star - flickering with every whiskey neat.
The girl on your mind's just seventeen.

The buffet's just a ghost town - grape stem tumbleweeds are rollin' deep.
The soft-serve machine sounds like gnashing teeth. There's a melted chocolate puddle underneath.
That dark and twisted shape begins to creep.

The full moon finds you alone. The ship creaks and moan like an old foreclosed home.
You find a gold and crimson stairwell - 6 flights of 6 steps a piece.
Each banister's a 6 foot sword and sheath that cuts you down to the belly of the beast.

Now, there be a deep morose shade of blue what cannot be felt by the soul of a land-locked dirt-dweller.
Ye, though, out where the fathoms know no bounds...
on the business end of a shallow rum and jagged rocks...
Abandon all dignity, ye who enter here...
for this... be mareno!

The dealer laps a forked tongue and draws you to his russian roulette wheel.
He grins a greasy grin, he loads the pill of sin, and he pulls the trigger of a windy spin.
His eyes spark like neon, says "the house always wins".

It felt just like dyin' as the liquor found your spleen...
like the sound of your mother cryin'... you bet it all on red 17...